Here is an introductory post. Taking place probably a few months before the present time in the story, to account for travel time and such.

The cold grasp of winter was leaving the land, a sign that soon the tribe could begin working on the fields and planting the crops that would get them through another winter. The winters were still brutal, but not as brutal as they had been since the defeat of the evil one. It was a time of celebration and the tribe, young and old, gathered around a great fire to hear the stories of the great warriors of old. Men and women, larger than life, that had defeated great dragons and trolls, men who slew wolves the size of great bears that attacked villages, and heroes who had gone off to war taking part in great victories. The old bard, the tribe’s master of tales, continued, voice strong despite age. The mood of the celebration waxed and waned with the tales, sombre to jubilant, sadness to joy. The oral stories acting as the focal point and heart of this community, small as it was. One story ended with the slaying of a great troll who had terrorized a nearby village, eating its livestock, and exhausting that, its children. A great warrior named Bjorn had fought the troll, skewering it with a great spear and, showing a great feat of strength, had torn its head from its shoulders. The people roared with the climax of its collective memory. Silence fell as the old storyteller raised his hand, supplicating the village. “And now, friends,” he began, his strong voice deepening and gaining strength, “we hear the great tale of Ulfr the Wolf King...”

The young lad ran, heart racing and lungs burning despite the cold and the snowfall that seemed to be thickening by the second. Behind him the excited wailing of the wildmen and their beasts seemed to be snapping at his feet. The boy tripped over a log, turning what could of been his end into a roll. His fearful excitement was uncontainable as he let out a barking laugh as he evaded his pursuers. He knew his path well, dodging around and underneath the snowladen trees. In the near distance he saw his destination, a huge beast of a man, his shield and armour seemed to belong to something unearthly. He held a great spear whose haft looked to be as thick as one of the boy’s legs and whose spearhead looked lethal in size alone. “Get down boy,” the figure seemed to snarl. The boy needed no more encouragement, and dove to his stomach as the spear flashed overhead followed by a wet smack and a thud as the spear drove through a hound that had been close on his heels, through his handler, and wedged itself into a tree. The boy swore that the tree seemed to split down the centre.

At this the figure drew his sword, the enormous blade looking normal in the man’s great hands. The figures who had been pursuing the boy came to a halt at this, obviously cowed at the immense man before and their recently skewered friends. The boy, now hiding behind a tree could sense the indecision and the second thoughts they were having, and fought to suppress a laugh. From within the crowd a wavering voice called, “He’s alone, just one man.” At this they charged him.

The first few fell through a thin covering into a ditch, impaling themselves on sharpened sticks. The momentum of those behind pushing them down, crushing them. As they crossed it seemed to these men as if shadowy wraiths appeared all around them, cutting them down as they charged. The great man also seemed to explode off of his feet charging into the confused mass of bodies. Screams of agony erupted from those once confident in their purpose as the hulking figure reached them. The boy watched, mesmerized, as the figure, despite his hulking size, moved quickly and with purpose. Parrying a blow here, hacking a limb there. The figure and his allies that seemed to materialize from nowhere made quick work of their enemies, who whole butcher lasting less than a minute.

The figure turned to his second in command, “Brand, they seem to be better equipped and larger than the last raiding party.”
“Yes Old Wolf, that they do.”
“Brand, don’t call me that, you are but a few summers younger than I and an equally capable warrior at that.”
“Yeah,” the captain replied laughing, walking to the spear imbedded in the tree, “if I am your equal, why can’t I do that.” He heaved on the spear, but it refused to budge. The hulking figure strode up to it, “Ehh, it’s not my fault that your wife is the strong one in your household, and her rabbit stew seems to have made you soft.” He grabbed the spear with one arm, yanking it from the tree with what seemed like a minimum of effort.

Looking to wear the boy hid he called, “Rabbit, get over here so we can leave this place and these wretched corpses.” He and his men turned to leave, “And good work boy.”

Pallando arose and looked at the just-arrived Alatar. "The time has come." he said. "The time for the council, the council that should have happened long ago when Mithrandir was still with us. But he is not, so it is up to us."

Tarryn stirred awake, her shoulder aching. She looked around the cavern. If the state of their bedrolls was anything to go by, the guys of her party had never come to bed. A presence moved near her and she instinctively jumped, drawing the knife from under her pillow.

"Tis only me," a calm, female voice stated.

Tarryn's breath whooshed from her lungs as she collapsed back into her bed roll, hiding her face in her hands. "I am so sorry, Wenlynn."

"Here."

The young fighter peeked through her fingers at her friend, as she settled herself beside her and held out a steaming cup of tea.

"You have a reason to be jumpy. That's why I was so far away." She chuckled, "Besides, I am marred to a warrior. He's fought me in his dreams before. I know he doesn't mean it and neither do you."

"But I would have never have forgiven myself if I had."

Wenlynn frowned. "Sit up and drink this, Tarryn. I think something is happening. There are messengers running everywhere."

She did as her friend had bidden her. "Do you suppose they're finally gathering the council to meet?" she asked between sips.

"Perhaps. The lads never came to bed last night."

"I just better not find them passed out, drunk somewhere."

Wenlynn giggled and wiggled excitedly beside her. "There's something I've been wanting to talk to you about. Without the lads."

The female warrior was suddenly more alert. She wasn't much for girl talk, but if it was important to one Ranger, it usually effected many more. "Listening."

"I haven't told Saulo yet, but I'm bearing."

There was a moment of stunned silence before Tarryn could force the words from her mouth. "How long have you known?"

"About a month. I need to tell him, I know, but he so wanted to come on this quest that I don't want him to give it up, which I know he will when he knows."

"Wen, you were bearing when we were attacked. It could have been you and the child instead of me!"

"I know. And it scared me, but at that point, there was no turning back. I started thinking that if I told him now; now we could head back, or settle somewhere safe until it comes."

"You have to tell him, soon!"

"I know, I know!" Wenlynn was in a very controlled panic. "He's going to be so disappointed, maybe even angry and I'm so afraid. I'm bringing an innocent child into this dark, evil world!"

Tarryn set aside the cup and grabbed her friend's hands. "Wen, that's what we're fighting for. That's what my secret's about." She drew the girl to her left shoulder so she could whisper in her ear. "I would give my life so that your child can grow up safe. This quest is about you and every other mother and child in the world. I will see it done." She was glad her friend couldn't see her face. Her voice had been soft and comforting, but her face was set, determined.

"Excuse me?"

The female Rangers looked up at a young man.

"I have been sent to escort the Ranger, Tarryn to the council chambers."

"Oh!" Wenlynn brushed tears from her face and grabbed her friend's vest. "Here. Got to make you presentable."

"Help me redo my braids."

With deft fingers, the other Ranger quickly re-braided her friend's long black tresses into two braids, then wrapped them around her head the way she usually wore them. "There!" she said as she slid the last hairpin into place. "Get up. Vest on."

He was a man of action, not a man prone to giving in to feelings... Faramir had that side to him; men loved his brother in ways they did not love him. They followed him as their leader in war but trusted his brother more with the rest. He was man enough to recognize that Faramir would be a better leader in peace. But Gondor had not known peace in a long while and he knew his father had considered his younger brother weak for his aspiration to something else. In fact Middle Earth would not know peace until the Dark one was destroyed and who knew how long it would be? This was his world now the one he had to live in, one that needed a leader of men, a warrior not a shoulder on which to lean. He was not sure he knew how to be the latter in any case.

Still he wished he could do something for the peredhel; he had to admit he was shaken by the way she had looked at him, by the lack of reaction in her. A part of him was angry at her and another extremely concerned. What if she decided that she would not come back from Dol Guldur? Well none of them could stop her for sure. And yet... she had just said that he might be the one to wield what once was Narsil. If he did, she would have to obey him; if he became a king she would have to do as he ordered. But could he order her to live if she did not want to.

He realized he had wandered back to the main hall where the men were gathered. Theofrid caught him and he walked up to him.
"So?"
Boromir could not answer the man's question; it was difficult. He did not know what to say about Eari. If she could not find a way to move beyond the grief and loss he could not help her find one. She had not trusted him with enough of her life for him to help. He could regret he was not his brother or he could shoulder the burden of telling her how selfish and weak she was if he had to, even though it was not entirely true. But not now. If he found the wizards, maybe they could do what he could not.
"I am looking for the wizards."
"Pallando is in his room not to be disturbed. The other one has gone out I believe. But we should be summoned soon. We can't wait much longer if we want to do something. But that will be later; join us?"
He did... even though his mind wandered back to the peredhel time and again, he did. Until indeed they were summoned.

As he entered the room flanked by Theofrid who was attending as well and followed by the Rangers he met Pallando's gaze; he could only hope that the wizard could catch the tenor of his thoughts with regars to Eari. They would have to watch her after she delivered the sword into its new bearer's keeping. He stood where he could see her enter for she had not arrived just yet.

Who can say if I've been changed for the better?But because I knew youI have been changed for good.

It's funny how some distanceMakes everything seem smallAnd the fears that once controlled meCan't get to me at allIt's time to see what I can doTo test the limits and break throughNo right, no wrong, no rules for meI'm free

Who can say if I've been changed for the better?But because I knew youI have been changed for good.

It's funny how some distanceMakes everything seem smallAnd the fears that once controlled meCan't get to me at allIt's time to see what I can doTo test the limits and break throughNo right, no wrong, no rules for meI'm free

Garreth frowned down at two of his companions. Penn and Barton had made merry on the wine and games of chance, and now, it was time to pay.
He and Saulo had also enjoyed themselves last night, but had been sensible enough to know when to stop.

The two men exchanged a look before unceremoniously dumping a bucket of water over their drunk, sleeping friends.

Penn and Barton sat up, sputtering and choking.

"Get up and get yourselves presentable. You've got ten minutes." Garreth snapped, then started to walk away.

"What's going on?" Penn mumbled.

Garreth whirled to face him, his expression dark. "The counsel meeting has been called. Regardless, warriors such as yourselves should be more vigilant. If we had been attacked in the night, you'd be dead because I would have left your sorry tails where they lie and seen to Tarryn. And you should be counting and blessing your lucky stars that it was me and not her that found you this morning."

Properly chagrined, the two young Rangers hurried to clean themselves up, just barely managing to slip in behind Tarryn and Garreth without her noticing, just as one of the blue wizards stood to his feet.

Gandalf paced back and forth on top of the tower of Orthanc. He was deep in thought, and in despair. He had failed.

Saruman had turned traitor and imprisoned him up here. Gwaihir had not shown up as he had hoped from Radagast, and the delay proved fatal for Middle-Earth. He had not met Frodo in time and felt when Sauron regained the ring. He had the good sense of immediately taking off Narya, the Fire Ring, one of the Three that Cirdan had given him when he arrived at the Havens.

He watched as the darkness spread from the East, and knew all was lost. It was only a matter of time before the Nazgul came for him to take him to the torments of Barad-dur.

They came, but not for him. They came for Saruman, for he was a dangerous rival to the Dark Lord, and he brooked no rival. He remembered how Saruman came up in terror, asking for his help. Gandalf just shook his head. "The things you have had your hand in have now come back on you. I can do nothing anymore." he replied. It was then that the Nazgul plucked Saruman up from the tower, ignoring him to Gandalf's surprise.

The Mouth of Sauron was now in charge of Orthanc, and he saw the woods of Fangorn wither under the assault of the Darkness. He wondered if Treebeard or his kin would weather the storm.

It was obvious that the greatest torment Sauron could dish out to him was to abandon him there, to watch his might grow and drop into despair. It was crueler than any torments that could be contrived in the Dark Tower.

He wondered if Radagast had escaped. He hadn't been told of his whereabouts, but there were hints he was imprisoned in Dol Guldur. The Ithryn Luin, nobody had heard from them since the day they went east with Saruman.

He hoped Elrond and Galadriel had the good sense to take off their rings when Sauron regained the One. All that they had done was now laid bare, he knew.

He heard the taunts from below, and each was like a dagger in his heart.

She felt as if she were not in her body... Boromir had gone leaving her alone. He was worried but she could not bring herself to care. The pain was too deep; why should she care about anybody else? She had lost everything. There was nothing left, no hope.

But she could not stay there; no matter how she felt some things needed doing, one of which was bearing witness to the acknowledgment of Boromir's place in this resistance. No matter the loneliness, no matter the despair, she still had to fight. She did not have to yield but neither did she have to break. Instead she let her mind wander to days before the darkness... when she was still young.

Lothlorien was beautiful in winter; she had loved that season and the leaves still there as if they were not affected by the passing of time. It was not entirely true as the leaves were found clinging to the branches when Spring came upon the forest, but still they were a sign of resilience in a season that would bring the rest of nature to sleep. She had often wondered why only in Laurelindorenan the leaves did not turn red, brown or orange before they fell; fall and winter were the most beautiful seasons in the Caras Galadhon. Even when she and Boromir crossed Lorien, though the forest was empty and the city destroyed, the trees remained in their beauty.

Could she be like these leaves, resilient in the face of the darkness? Could she be clinging to the branches until she had done what she was supposed to? It may be that she was not yielding to the winds as leaves were but she still had the strength to hold, at least for a while longer. She sighed deeply. The council would start soon; she needed to go.

As she entered the room she noticed Boromir stood where he could see her come. She caught his eyes, nodding slightly before she stood somewhat farther from the centre of what was about to happen.

Who can say if I've been changed for the better?But because I knew youI have been changed for good.

It's funny how some distanceMakes everything seem smallAnd the fears that once controlled meCan't get to me at allIt's time to see what I can doTo test the limits and break throughNo right, no wrong, no rules for meI'm free

There was a commotion outside the council chamber and a challenge from the guards. One of the dwarf guards came in. "There are two who wish to see you." he said to Alatar and Pallando. "They are not dwarves, but almost our size. We thought they were dwarf-children, but there is something rough about them."

"We will see them. Bring them in." said Pallando, suddenly. He looked to Alatar, who nodded. There was something about the report that intrigued his partner.

As they were escorted in, they looked up at the two wizards. "Gandalf?" said the taller of the two. Alatar shook his head.

"We don't know where he is," said Pallando. "But we are of his order. So who are you, halfling?"

The one who spoke threw back his hood, revealing a scarred face. "I am a Brandybuck, Meriadoc Brandybuck. This is Peregrin Took. Who are you?"

"I am Pallando, and this is Alatar. We are known as the Ithryn Luin, the Blue Wizards. It must have been quite a journey from your land."

The other shuddered. "We went with Frodo and Sam." the other said. "But the Black Riders followed us. There was nobody to help, and Gandalf was nowhere to be found. Frodo told us to go find help. By the time we came back. it was too late. They were dead near the gates of Bree. We were taken by Gildor and journeyed by secret ways that only he knew, and it got worse and worse. We were told there were wizards here, and hoped Gandalf had found us. Gildor wouldn't come, he had some other things to do, but sent us here."

"It seems it was fated for the two of you to come here. Be seated." said Pallando. "And let the council begin. Boromir, will you do the honors of speaking first?"

As the two halflings revealed themselves, Boromir was reminded of a past long gone; it seemed that five years later he had found the answer to the riddle that he and Faramir heard. In fact as he was given the honour of speaking first, that is what first came to his lips.

Seek for the Sword that was broken:In Imladris it dwells;There shall be counsels takenStronger than Morgul-spells.There shall be shown a tokenThat Doom is near at hand,For Isildur's Bane shall waken,And the Halfling forth shall stand.

There was silence then; he caught the peredhel's gaze on him. There was much sorrow there and he knew she also remembered the words; did he not yell them at her when she refused to let him ride to Imladris or back to Gondor as if it was her fault that they were not to come to be? He had not realized until today that she did so knowing that the sword was in her hands and did not tell him.

"It appears that though the prophecy of these words comes about five years too late, there is hope to be found in them." He heard a sharp intake of breath from the injured female Ranger as if something made sense to her that did not to anyone else. "For though Imladris is no more, the counsel I bring was that of Lord Elrond and Cirdan of the Grey Havens. And though five years have passed what they thought still can come to be."

Not unlike Earendil he had carried secrets for the past five years. It did not come easy to him at the first. He was a different man then; he had not understood that if he found the Sword it meant he would also find Isildur's heir. After Cirdan revealed this he had long pondered as to why his father did not tell him for Denethor was versed in the old lore and would have known. Gondor had no need for a King; the line of the Stewards had been enough till that fateful night when Sauron recovered the Ring... when Isildur's heir failed to protect the Halflings. Or so he felt then. But he had come to understand the burden that the Rangers of the North bore; protecting a world that ignored their existence at best, scorned them and hunted them sometimes. He had grown up with love and recognition of his people.

"The One Ring is bound to Middle Earth; there is no escaping this truth. And there is but one way to destroy it; by throwing it into the fires of Mount Doom where it was forged. So did Lord Elrond reveal in his knowledge of the past and future. And though we might be granted help by the Valar it will fall upon the people of Middle Earth to stand together and find a way to bring the Dark One out of Mordor and challenge him as once Gil Galad and Elendil did. Cirdan believed that challenged by the one who carried the Sword that was broken Sauron would come out of Mordor."

Off his belt he pulled a round bundle of cloth; he knew not to touch its content. He also knew not to reveal it for it was a tempting thing; Cirdan had made sure he knew this. He remembered vividly the time the old elf had shown him the stone. Its smooth appearance was treacherous. He wanted to touch it more than he could even comprehend. But Cirdan had told him he was not ready to hold it; only one with a power of will strong enough could hold and control the seeing stone.

"Behold the palantir of Amon Sul." There was a sound of disbelief from the Rangers and Earendil herself. The palantiri of Amon Sul and Annuminas were lost in the sea with King Arvedui when the WitchKing of Angmar attacked Fornost and the kings were forced to flee. "I do not know how Cirdan came to find it; might it be that Ulmo felt it would be needed and recovered them from the deep bowels of the ocean. After all the King of the Seas always loved the Eldar and the Edain. Cirdan has care of the palantir of Annuminas and could be called upon that way but only in our greatest hour of need. And it is left to us to find out who should use the seeing stone."

The rest did not need explaining just now; how Cirdan and Elrond guessed that Sauron had taken control of the palantiri of Minas Morgul and Orthanc and Minas Tirith if the stone remained, which was a possibility but his father never mentioned the seeing stone. So it was so very important that the person using the seeing stone of Amon Sul be strong for in the East the others would be calling to it.

Who can say if I've been changed for the better?But because I knew youI have been changed for good.

It's funny how some distanceMakes everything seem smallAnd the fears that once controlled meCan't get to me at allIt's time to see what I can doTo test the limits and break throughNo right, no wrong, no rules for meI'm free

Tarryn gasped in shock at what Boromir’s words implied. A seeing stone and the sword, Narsil. Her heart began to race and her breaths quickened as she dared to hope that part of her quest was nearing it’s end. She felt Garreth’s hand lightly touch her elbow. he was concerned because he’d noticed the changes. On her other side, Wenlynn had also noticed and gripped her hand tightly.

Her mind reeled as images flashed through her mind. Her mentor, Strider, or Aragorn, depending on whom he was with, his body weak and injured beyond repair, lying against the back of a cave, between them a small, smokeless fire was their only comfort. “Again. Say it again, Tarryn. You have to remember...” she remembered him saying, and she struggling to do as he asked, knowing that he was dying before her eyes.

A pinch from Garreth pulled her back to herself. She wondered fleetingly how he always knew what she needed. She flicked her gaze over the assembled people, running the clues Aragorn had made her remember through her mind.

According to the genealogies he had forced her to memorize, the last heir of Isildur was a half elven female, so that ruled out most everyone present. Her eyes fell on Boromir’s companion. Then something else caught her attention. Something on the woman’s cloak was catching the torch light.

Recognition crashed down on her like a physical flood. It was good that she was already seated or she would have fallen. All the clues made sense now. She just had one test to be sure. She had to talk to Eari.

Pallando sat and pondered the news. "Be careful about using that stone, seeing that the Enemy has the others. He could draw you in, seemingly as Saruman was, unless the time comes when secrecy avails no longer. I now see how he betrayed us. "

She did not want to talk... there was too much to process and to grieve for. And yet was it any surprise that Boromir had carried this burden without telling her? Had she not kept the Sword hidden from him? If he had known the one who carried the Sword might be the one to control the Seeing Stone he might have guessed that the shards of Narsil had been in the elves' keeping. Or maybe he did not.

She was tempted to just produce the sword and be done with it; she did not want to speak to these people. Not just now. Nevertheless this was a council and she had her part to tell, her role to play. She could no longer be an anonymous soldier of this war much as she'd like to be; she renounced that 'privilege' when she agreed - volunteered really - to come this side of the Misty Mountains. She was what she was - one of the few left belonging both to Eldar and Edain - and there was no stepping away from it.

"I speak for the elves of the Lindon and those who died in Lothlorien for they were kin. As you may know nothing is left of Laurelindenorenan and its people." She looked at Morwe and his sister; they would know. They had lost theirs too. "For when the power of Nenya was undone, nothing could protect the woods from the orcs. There was a reason for our passing through what was the Golden Wood... and the trees do not lie. Durin's Bane, a Balrog of Morgoth was part in the destruction. Glorfindel and Cirdan in Lindon foresaw this and decided to stay though maybe only a Maiar now can destroy one of their own."She paused...

"In Lindon where the last two children of the line of Earendil remain there too was the Sword that was broken until a bearer could be found. Cirdan but also Elrohir ordered it reforged as his father might have. Cirdan believed the sword should be entrusted to its new bearer here. But it was in my care that it was left by the last son of Isildur." She untied the belt which held the sword and lay it in its scabbard on the table with care and love. It was the last thing she had that reminded her of Aragorn and she was relinquishing it as she knew she must. But that did not make it easier. "This is Anduril, Narsil reforged. Let it be known that though the line of Elendil is broken, there is one here who can claim the sword and lead us."

Last edited by earendil81 on Fri Mar 01, 2013 8:10 am, edited 1 time in total.

Who can say if I've been changed for the better?But because I knew youI have been changed for good.

It's funny how some distanceMakes everything seem smallAnd the fears that once controlled meCan't get to me at allIt's time to see what I can doTo test the limits and break throughNo right, no wrong, no rules for meI'm free

Tarryn gasped again and began to tremble. She found herself moving forward without even realizing that she had stood up, and without the wizards calling on her.

The son of the steward was not the heir. He must not lead.

Her hand moved toward the sword. Her fingers brushed the tooled leather of the scabbard. She had to reach past the hilt and she was careful to stand away from it to seem less threatening. She was not trying to claim the sword.

She met the peredhel’s gaze. “My heart is gladdened to see the sword reforged. I have borne ill tidings and seen little to give me hope for some time.” A sad smile twitched at the corners of her mouth for a few fleeting seconds, then she switched languages. “Do you remember the child I was, Eärendil?”

There was a pause as if the peredhel were taken aback by the sound of Adunaic... few still spoke the language even among the Dunedain of Arnor. Only spoken by those closest to Aragorn... So maybe she was surprised; she seemed to be looking for some clue until suddenly her eyes showed recognition.

“Tarryn of Bree?” Eari whispered.

“Yes. He gave us each a quest, and now our quests will merge.” She switched back to the common tongue to continue. “The leader we hoped for is near at hand, but it is not whom everyone expects. My mentor, and the heir of Isildur is dead. I was with him. But in his last few days, he taught me much. He taught me that there was one last heir, though this person does not know it. He charged me to find and assist the heir in defeating the Dark Lord. He gave me six signs to find the heir and today, I have witnessed three of them.”

There were some murmurs among the gathered people.

“Aragorn told me the heir would wear the Star of the Dunedain. He told me to look for the one who bore the sword and wore a particular beryl stone pendant.”

Eari’s hand moved to her neck as if she were clutching at something hidden underneath.

“He taught me the genealogy of the heir, and by that I learned that I am looking for a half-elven woman by the name of Helyanwe.”

It felt such a long time since someone last spoke to her in Adunaic. In fact she knew exactly when... It was not even that frequent amongst the Dunedain anymore; most only spoke Sindarin and the common tongue. Only the Grey Company, those closest to Isildur’s heir, did. Which meant that this woman was once a close companion to Aragorn. And obviously she was supposed to know her... There had to be something about her that she recognized. There were few children left in Arnor of the old lines; Eari was one and obviously this woman too. But there were even fewer women allowed to fight among them. Women were intended and raised to bring to the world children who could carry the Numenorean line. Few had ever refused that path even less so in the years before the coming of the darkness. In fact there were only three. She was the eldest a child of both Edain and Eldar. One died in Fornost when the Witch King destroyed it a second time. So there was only one left... Tarryn of Bree.

But what the young woman had to say she could not believe... Her hand went compulsively to her neck where the pendant lay that she had worn since she was seven and old enough to understand why she had no father.

Three signs witnessed out of six she was given to look for. Eari was no fool; she knew who she was. Yes the old blood coursed in her veins; blood of the Faithful without a doubt but royal? No. And yet; Tarryn seemed to be hammering the truth of this to her with every word.“A half-elven woman by the name of Helyanwe.”

She could barely breathe... The room seemed to shrink around her. She had not used that name since she was in her teens; that name died for her when her mentor left for Valinor. But he always liked to call her his light in the darkness so she took the name she had now. Even the dubious nickname given by the people in Bree was more familiar now than this one. She exhaled trying to control some of the overwhelming feelings that threatened to undo her.“I haven’t been called that in three decades, Tarryn of Bree. Not even by my people.” That was not entirely true - Cirdan was not one to ignore that names had a meaning and he would not let her ignore it either. He respected her choice but when they were alone he would sometimes call her that way.

She was not meant to lead these people; she did not have the strength. Right now she could not even see a future for herself. How was she supposed to look at it thinking of the future of a people? How could she when all hope seemed to fade? “No...” She ended up saying. “That cannot be true.”

She looked somewhat desperately towards Tarryn, hoping with all her heart the woman would deny what she had only just said.

There was sympathy in the young woman’s eyes, but a hard determination too. “It is, Earendil. Was there not a prophecy given at the time of your birth?”

At that she knew there was no other way to go. Had she not said - was it only a day before this? - to the wizards that her path lay in the East as it was foretold when she was born. She spoke the words more to herself than anybody else, but so did Tarryn...

“To the North she will never belongBut whether to East or West no one will knowIt will depend on if she is not enough strongAnd she instead of hope chooses sorrowBut in the East she'll endShould she choose the latter."

She paused... though Tarryn did not.

“But that is not all of it. There are two lines more of the prophecy that he said had been kept from you.

And what was broken thenShall decide what happens to her.”

She had always believed there were two lines missing to that prophecy when she was told of it. She nagged Halbarad and his mother as they raised her more times than she cared to count to know of it all. Every time they answered that she worried too much for such a detail; not every poem or prophecy had eight lines... In fact few children were born under such stars that would allow for a seer to see the future of a child. She knew that to be lies... Lies to protect her. But she had always expected these last two lines to say she would die. Not that the Sword that was Broken would be her fate.

She was angry... confused, overwhelmed. This was too much; why would they hide all of this from her? And yet, there were people here, witnesses to what was happening and she could not crumble or falter. She might not believe, not want to be what Tarryn said she was but if she was to lead them she could not throw a child's fit. However unexpectedly it was a laugh that came out of her mouth. Short, sad... "Irony of ironies..." She turned to the wizards and then to Boromir. "You know what Helyanwe means, do you not?" Of course they did; did they not all speak the language? The rainbow... the light in the storm. A sign of hope. Even if not for herself. Boromir nodded; there was something new there though, something that reminded her what this all meant. She stood taller and addressed them all.

"I have carried Narsil reforged for five years believing I was to hand it over to the one who would lead us. And as much as it seems it is my right to have it, there might be some here who have precedence in leading this war. So I would let this Council decide whether or not Anduril is mine to claim."

She could not bear to look at Tarryn just then but she knew from looking at her companions that their decision was made; they believed what the woman said and they would follow the heir... well heiress to Barad Dur if that was where she decided to go. And so leaving the sword on the table she walked with Tarryn to stand by the Rangers, last Dunedain of Arnor.

Who can say if I've been changed for the better?But because I knew youI have been changed for good.

It's funny how some distanceMakes everything seem smallAnd the fears that once controlled meCan't get to me at allIt's time to see what I can doTo test the limits and break throughNo right, no wrong, no rules for meI'm free

Garreth sat, numb, watching Tarryn share publicly, the burden she had borne silently for so long. The others probably saw what they always did, Tog-Wea, the stone string, tough, determined leader, but he saw through her posturing. He saw her fingers tremble slightly when she reached to touch the scabbard of her mentor. He heard the cracks in he voice as she spoke. He saw the tension in her back, as she faced the person she had spent the last few years searching for.

He longed to reach out and hold her, to offer her comfort, to be her protector. But he knew she would never allow it. Not while she felt there was a battle to fight. The greater good was all she would allow herself to see, never personal good, never her own needs.

As she walked back to her seat, Garreth could see the slight waver in her step. Few others would notice. As she moved to sit, he put his hand on her back to ease her down, even so, her landing was harder than usual. It was all he could to to keep from scooping her into his arms and carrying her to bed. Instead, he let his hand linger as long as he dared, then moved it to press his palms against knees as they all awaited the next word from the Blue Wizards.

Pallando looked over at Alatar and back. "Many things have happened that look hopeless, but several things that have come to light here give us hope," he said. "Two halflings,"

"Hobbits, if you please." said Meriadoc.

"Hobbits, then." said Alatar. "Companions of the one who was to bear the RIng to its destruction, if all had gone right."

"But it hasn't." said Pallando. "But an heir of Isildur comes unlooked-for, bearing the sword that was broken, and..." He looked hard at her. "You bear something else, do you not? It means, if you have it, that you are the one who should bear the sword, and none other. It is not for nothing that the heir that was to be trained you, led you in the way.

It is for you to decide. There is another hope, but one that is far-fetched, the choice of Earendil." he looked up at the Great Eagle who towered above them. "One who would bear one with the Heart of the Mountain, and the heart of the Dwarves here. But that is if all else fails, like in the days Earendil sailed to the West."

"I am ready, if it comes to that." said Meneldor.

"What do you say, heiress?" said Pallando. "And what do the rest of you say?"

The wizard was looking at her as if she had an answer to his question. Something called to him in ways it only could to Maiar. Well there were two things she carried close to her heart for no one to see. The pendant that Tarryn had mentioned and another token that seemed to prove her claim anew. One that she intended to give to the Lady Arwen, a last memory of the one who held her heart, but Elrond's daughter refused it. She said it was hers to keep, which made sense now. It was overwhelming but the truth was that she could not refuse; she might not see herself as a leader. Many men might even leave rather than follow a woman to war. And yet...

"What do you say, heiress?" said Pallando. "And what do the rest of you say?"

She looked back at the wizard and then at Boromir. The companion of the past five years was looking back with something that seemed a renewed understanding of who and what she was. Five years before she guided him to a place where he could reclaim who he was; she had followed him as one followed a leader, a king through every moment. And now he would be doing the same; she could read in his stance that he expected her to claim herself and not deny who she was. He would say it if it was required. She breathed in deeply.

"Before anyone says anything, I would show you what else I carry that you can tell if this were what you saw." Pallando nodded and she reached behind her neck to untie the leather that hung there. She pulled at it revealing the two pieces of jewelry held there: first there was the beryl stone pendant that Tarryn had spoken off. It was jewel made in Aman for her father's mother who gave it to her son when he travelled to Middle Earth. The second the Dunedain recognized right away and one of them whispered."The Ring of Barahir. We thought it was lost."

She ignored them and looked to the two Ithryn Luin."Was that the sign you wanted to see?"

Who can say if I've been changed for the better?But because I knew youI have been changed for good.

It's funny how some distanceMakes everything seem smallAnd the fears that once controlled meCan't get to me at allIt's time to see what I can doTo test the limits and break throughNo right, no wrong, no rules for meI'm free

Pallando stood up and bowed. "Those are the signs. The true heir of Isildur stands before us, hope when all seems dark. Not the one who was thought to be, but another, an unexpected one. With the two hobbits and the Steward. It is yours to take, milady."

He waved a hand to all. "Behold the chosen Queen! One who will lead to either darkness or victory."

Tarryn's breathing changed and Garreth felt her relax against his arm where he was supporting her. Then she moved. She stepped away from him and knelt before Eari. "My quest is nearly complete. I pledge myself to your service, so long as you are fighting the Dark One."

As the wizard's voice resounded and the word 'Queen' was used he saw her tremble. None of the others would; they did not know her as he did. And yet he was not so foolish as to believe that he knew her well. The half-elf had held so many things close, hidden in her heart that maybe only Cirdan had ever discovered. But she had not meant for this to happen, she had not even understood it could. Earendil or Helyanwe since it was her true name, had not led her life to reach for power, she had not even known she was this close to it until the young woman Tarryn had revealed who she was. She was terrified of what this meant, Boromir could see it in her eyes even as she accepted Tarryn's oath. But she would not falter; not here not now. When alone though she might crumble under the weight... as strong as she appeared to be there were wounds and weaknesses that could undo her, undo them all. So maybe this time he could show her the way.

He approached and offered the bow he would once have offered his father; he saw the smile and the relief it held. She was not ready to have people follow her blindly wherever she would go. And the wizard's words were ominous even to him; the burden they had just placed on her shoulders was heavy and though she would not have tried to flee the responsibility she had hesitated. She felt each failure deeply and she knew that there was no coming back from this one if she did fail. She also needed to know that some would still advise her if she were to make the wrong choices. She might not know it but she would make a good leader if only because of that. She would not be arrogant about power, she would not think it was owed to her and she needed to know she could rely on others. And he offered her the oath of Gondor, one he knew she once took though she was hidden among the throngs of soldiers.

"I hearby do swear fealty and service to Gondor and to the Queen of the Realm: To speak and to be silent. To do and to let be. To come and to go, in need or plenty, in peace or war, in living or dying until my lady release me, death take me or the world end."He saw the change in her posture then; he had handed her a way to deal with this. "And I hear it and I will not forget it, nor fail to reward that which is given: fealty with love, valour with honour, oath-breaking with vengeance." She paused before she smiled. There was strength to be found in the old ways, in the old words. She spoke again then, with more strength than before.

"It might be that I shall one day sit on a throne, but that day is a long way away. And I shall fight the Dark One till my last breath if that is my fate." She nodded towards Tarryn and the Rangers who all bowed in response. "Still I would hear the counsel of those who have fought in these regions for longer than I have that we can make Dol Guldur fall." She turned to the elves and then to Theofrid whom she acknowledged with a slight bow of her head. He had to admit she was clever; she might not have mingled with the men but she had taken note of every single one of them. She might not have reached for power but she may yet prove to be a natural at leading them. She had identified the one who needed to be won over without being guided. She would also not let this council become an acknowledgment of her ruling; she knew they needed to plan their attack and she had just made it clear.

So the discussions moved towards what their action should be if they were to bring down the fortress of Dol Guldur as elves and men alike took the floor to share the information and their ideas. She listened just as intently as the wizards as if she were trying to see all the possibilities; so was he. In the end she would have the make the decision and though she might ask for advice, they would look to her to guide them. And he would be there if she needed him to.

Who can say if I've been changed for the better?But because I knew youI have been changed for good.

It's funny how some distanceMakes everything seem smallAnd the fears that once controlled meCan't get to me at allIt's time to see what I can doTo test the limits and break throughNo right, no wrong, no rules for meI'm free